


Arresting Development

by siluria



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Halloween, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:38:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siluria/pseuds/siluria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy has had less than honest intentions towards his downstairs neighbor since Jim moved in. Recently he's come to realize that Jim has a uniform fetish, and Pike's Halloween party might be the opportunity to test whether a Police Uniform will tip the scales in his favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arresting Development

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Halloween Challenge at [Jim and Bones](http://jim-and-bones.livejournal.com/profile) community.
> 
> I chose Cop.

***

When Jim Kirk moved into the apartment below his, McCoy found his nice quiet life turned upside down. He remembered the day... not fondly as such, but as the beginning of a new path. He'd been sat in his bay windows with a cup of coffee on one of his rare days off from the hospital watching people pass by. The truck had pulled up at the curb and tipped out a gaggle of people who had the back unloaded with military precision in record time. On the floor below there had been laughter, echoing in the bare apartment, until it was drowned out by music. He'd sighed as his quiet day was interrupted, turning away from the window and reluctantly looking for that never-ending to-do list.

James T 'call me Jim' Kirk knocked on his door four hours later with his bright blue eyes, sunny expression and unending cheer. McCoy wanted to hate him. He soon found out he never could, and that hate was the exact opposite of what he felt. Problem was he'd seen some of the women that had slipped out of the front door at the early hours when he'd been coming home from a night shift, or as he flew past on the mornings he was late.

He knew he was lost up shit creek the day Jim slipped down the stairs. He'd opened the front door to the building, his head shooting up at the clatter of someone losing it, the flash of blue, when it finally came to a stop revealing itself to be Jim. 

Jim looked up at him when he ran over, a sheepish look on his face. "Ouch," his shaking voice said, almost as a question. Considering the only time anyone would need to come down the stairs was if they were coming from McCoy's apartment, McCoy assumed Jim hadn't wanted to be caught.

"You okay?" McCoy asked as he'd crouched down in front of Jim. He held out a supportive hand as Jim tried to get to his feet, dropping back down to land on the bottom step when he tried to put his weight on his left foot. "Guess not," he muttered, placing his hands on Jim's ankle.

Jim winced. "You any good at first aid?"

"Given that I'm a surgeon, I'd be pretty damn useless at my job if I didn't."

Jim's eyes had widened and brightened. "You have scrubs and a white coat?"

McCoy frowned as he prodded and poked at Jim's obviously sprained ankle. "Yeah."

"You're my new favorite neighbor."

"I'm your only neighbor."

Jim shrugged. "Semantics. Now help me up and you can tell me all about yourself."

McCoy huffed as he pulled Jim upright and wrapped an arm around Jim to steady him as they shuffled to Jim's front door. "That won't take long, there's really nothing to tell."

Jim just smirked. In retrospect, McCoy really should have gotten his first clue that day.

*

McCoy had no idea why he'd been invited to Pike's Halloween Party. He'd not even been listed as anyone's +1, the gilded invitation had been sticking out of his mail box and was quite clearly addressed to him, especially seeing that it was annotated in red pen with a big solid circle around the 'costume essential' part of the invitation. For a while he thought it was Jim's idea, and half expected to turn up on Pike's expensive doorstep and be asked what the hell he was doing there. But since Jim decided that McCoy/Bones/whatever the pet name of the month was, would be his new best-friend, he'd been dragged along to Pike Engineering's social events on a regular basis, meeting the man on enough occasions that he hoped Pike would remember his name when he knocked on his door.

He had no idea what he was going to wear. When Jim dragged him off to the coffee shop last Sunday morning he'd made every attempt under the sun to wheedle his way out it, from claiming he was working, to helping old ladies across the street. Jim wasn't buying. Nor was he revealing what he was wearing to give McCoy any clues as to what he could dress up as himself. He'd made a joke about bringing scrubs and a coat home from work, then spent the rest of the day wondering why Jim seemed to have found that idea a particularly good one.

A week later, McCoy exited the local grocery store to find Jim chatting up the very male cop that was giving him a parking ticket. It was the first time McCoy had seen Jim express any interest towards the same sex. There was a jealous kick in his gut at the sight, one that battled with a small swell of hope that he purposely pushed back again. Jim stood up straighter when he spotted him, pushed away from the car he'd been leaning against and took his ticket with a smile. Jim's attention was on McCoy then, except for the brief glance at the cop as he walked away. McCoy followed Jim's gaze for a moment, before an idea popped into his head. He just hoped he wasn't going to end up making a fool of himself.

*

McCoy eyed himself in the bathroom mirror, turning one way then the other, still wondering if he was making a big mistake. The shirt was a little tight across the shoulders, and although the pants were a little tight too at least he could still bend without risking his sex life, as pitiful as it had been of late. Working at the hospital gave him some contacts, there were enough cops in and out of the hospital, as patients or for the patients, and McCoy was on first name terms with the regulars. Familiar enough for them to loan him most of a uniform, including the cuffs, which he had to admit he'd allowed himself a moment to dream of the 'what-ifs'.

Glancing at his watch, McCoy realized that the opportunity to change his mind, and his outfit, had disappeared. He was running late as it was, and he grabbed his keys, cell phone and wallet from the table in the hall and headed for the stairs to meet Jim in the lobby.

McCoy checked his cell for any obnoxious messages Jim might have left him as he ran down the stairs. He spotted Jim first, taking in the long cloak and smartly pressed Edwardian suit, he wondered for a moment if it was just a period costume, but as Jim turned at the sound of his footsteps, McCoy saw the white mask that covered half of his face. Looking as he was, McCoy was able to see Jim’s reaction to his own outfit.

Jim’s eyes tracked up his legs first, the hint of a smirk curving his lips as he spied the belt with the cuffs and baton. McCoy could feel the heat in Jim’s gaze as it dragged up his chest, right up until Jim met his eyes as he hopped off the last step. McCoy could only see one side of Jim’s face, but he could picture the mirror-image arch of both eyebrows, even with the mask covering the right side of his face.

Jim was silent for long enough to make McCoy uncomfortable. “Sorry I’m late,” he muttered gruffly.

Jim waved a dismissive hand, and while his eyebrows fell to their normal position Jim didn’t stop staring. “Um, you look… nice outfit. I didn’t think you’d… um.”

McCoy, unused to Jim being anything other than confident and brash with his words, suddenly wondered if he’d miscalculated, his gaze dropping to take in the clothes he was wearing. “Is there a dress code? Do I need to change?”

“No!” Jim said quickly, his hands twitching in what looked like an abortive attempt to prevent McCoy from backing off and heading back upstairs. “I mean, no, there’s no dress code, it’s a free for all, whatever you want to wear. I just didn’t think you’d take it seriously, I thought you were going to grab some scrubs from work.”

McCoy shrugged and tucked his thumbs into the belt. Jim coughed like he was trying to clear his throat. “I figured since Pike invited me and it sounded like a big deal for him that it would be rude to turn up in my work clothes and drink his booze like I’d just crawled in his front door off a bad shift.”

“That’s… well, that’s good, very good.” Jim stilled, long enough that McCoy started to fidget. But Jim shook himself and straightened up, the usual confident grin splitting the side of his face that McCoy could see. He grabbed the edges of his cloak and held his arms out before spinning in a slow circle. “What do you think?”

McCoy allowed himself a moment of hungry appraisal while he had permission to stare. The black pants were tight and hugging in all the right places, the white shirt loose and unbuttoned low enough to afford McCoy a good view of Jim’s chest. Jim’s hair was slicked back, and he could just see the hint of red makeup at the edge of the mask, and McCoy guessed Jim had gone into his outfit with the same focused gusto that he approached everything else and had included the phantom’s scars.

“Looks good,” McCoy said honestly. “Will I get to see the phantom remove his mask later?” He wanted more than just the mask to be removed, but they had a party to get to, and if he went down that avenue of thought there was no way he’d look like a decent honest man on Pike’s doorstep.

Jim smirked. “If you’re lucky Bones.”

*

If he had the best engineering minds at his disposal, McCoy guessed he would utilize their collective genius for a decent coffee machine at the hospital. Pike had clearly decided his boys and girls were best placed to sort out the decorations for his party. When the cab pulled up at the bottom of Pike’s winding driveway Jim had started explaining all that they had done to turn the modern house into something that looked like a haunted castle. There were projectors and speakers dotted all over the grounds, some with motion detectors to frighten unsuspecting doctors out of their skin. McCoy swore he could feel the cobwebs, the chilled air directed perfectly to blow on the back of his neck. Bushes rustled and lit up with glowing red eyes, and while McCoy had been distracted by a ghostly body hanging from a tree to his right, a very real hand had clawed at his ankle making him yelp.

“Damn overgrown infants and their toys,” he groused when he’d caught his breath.

Jim laughed and draped an arm over his shoulders. “It’s Halloween Bones, we all need to regress to childhood to make the most of it.”

“Well, this grown-up is making the most of the alcohol, I'll leave it to you infants to go toilet paper the neighbor’s house. And If the alcohol has eyeballs floating in it I won’t be happy,” he growled, although he had to admit he was pretty impressed with what he’d seen so far. When Jim chuckled and squeezed his shoulder before letting go, he imagined his tone hadn’t been quite as grouchy as he’d hoped for.

The inside of Pike’s house had been given the same treatment as the outside, and McCoy spared a brief moment to hope that they’d steered clear of the bathroom with all the decorations and tricks, because that was the last place he wanted to be taken by surprise. Pike had greeted them at the door, dressed as the spitting image of Christopher Lee’s Dracula. McCoy wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d turned into a bat in a cloud of smoke. Thankfully he stayed whole long enough to surprise McCoy by not only remembering his name, but also directing him to the grown-up's alcohol.

Jim’s hand rested lightly at the base of his back as they weaved around the rooms and to the kitchen. McCoy had only managed to identify a few of Jim’s co-workers; Scotty was perfect as Einstein, and Gaila made a rather fetching, if not risqué, red-dressed Devil clinging to his side. Pike’s Head of Operations had kept the proverbial stick up his ass by dressing up in what looked like the most uncomfortable looking Regency outfit available, although McCoy did have to give Spock credit for matching Darcy’s disdain for parties whilst standing next to the beautiful Elizabeth Bennett that Nyota was portraying. McCoy wasn't sure he could have affected that level of disinterest with Nyota on his arm. 

A tug on his belt loop brought McCoy's attention away from the couple and back to the one person he could only hope he was hiding his interest in. Jim's gaze flicked over McCoy's shoulder briefly towards Nyota before he met his eyes. "Drink?" he asked, the smile on his face not quite as bright as McCoy knew it could get.

McCoy nodded. "What's Chris got?" he asked, eyeing an impressive array of bottles containing a full spectrum of colors. McCoy's gaze slipped quickly past the rainbow of bright reds and lurid greens, to almost iridescent blues and purples to the warm amber hues at the far end of the counter.

Jim, bless him, knew enough about McCoy's palette to go straight to the good stuff, and McCoy watched him in silence as Jim inspected a number of bottles before picking one up and showing the label to him. McCoy raised an eyebrow at the expensive bottle of bourbon, but he definitely wasn't going to say no. Jim picked up the answer to his unspoken question before McCoy could even nod. "Ice?"

McCoy nodded, and Jim picked a couple of glasses out of a cupboard before turning to the freezer. A tug on his belt and the metallic clink of the handcuffs brought his attention away from Jim and to the petite brunette dressed as a pirate that was twirling his cuffs on one finger. 

"I'm prepared to make a full confession, officer," she purred. "I've been very bad, all the looting and sinking of ships, I'm sure there's a law against all that."

"I'm sure there's one about stealing an officer's cuffs too, ma'am."

The brunette's painted read lips stretched as she grinned. "I haven't see you before, I'm Lauren from Accounts."

Manners had McCoy's hand automatically reaching out to take the one Lauren held out to him, but before they could connect, Jim slipped in next to him and placed the glass of bourbon in his outstretched hand. McCoy startled, but his grip tightened reflexively around the glass as Jim suddenly let go and snatched the cuffs Lauren was still twirling.

"Hello Lauren," Jim said, his voice tighter than usual. "There's a cactus over by the punchbowl that you have more in common with than my friend here."

McCoy didn't hear Lauren's reply as Jim wrapped a hand around his outstretched wrist and tugged him away in a display of possessiveness that Bones wasn't sure he liked. "Jim, what the hell?" he exclaimed once Lauren had retreated from the kitchen.

Jim shrugged. "She'll get over it, she always does." His words sounded bitter, and McCoy just huffed out a breath and took a sip of his drink, letting the cold liquid sit in his mouth for a moment to taste before the burn of the alcohol took over and he swallowed thickly. Chris Pike had good taste.

"Do you have the key to these?" Jim asked, bringing McCoy's attention back to Jim and the handcuffs he still held.

"Yeah," McCoy said, before digging the bunch of keys out of his pocket to check the small silver key was still attached. "I'm on strict instructions to not lose anything, they're all on loan." He shook the bunch of keys before returning them to his pocket.

Jim's gaze swept over the uniform, to the belt, before his eyes came back to McCoy's face. "Know someone at SFPD?"

McCoy shrugged. "A few someone's, one of which was roughly my size."

"You have to introduce me to them, I need to say thank you."

He watched, unable to look away, as Jim swallowed a large gulp of bright red liquid, licking his lips afterwards leaving them a vibrant red color. McCoy swallowed some more of his drink to combat his suddenly dry mouth.

"Please don't hit me or anything," Jim said softly as he took a step closer, "but I'm thinking Christmas and Halloween have got mixed up this year, and this bad boy could get a very good present to unwrap."

Despite the rapid beating of his heart, McCoy couldn't stop the snort of amusement. "Shit Jim, that's fucking terrible."

Jim took a step back again and dipped his head. "Yeah, sorry, that was pretty awful."

Jim's voice was flat, and the laugh that followed his words held no humor. McCoy sighed and set his drink on the counter behind Jim. Licking his lips in nervousness he plucked the cuffs from Jim's lax fingers. "Want to try again?" he asked, his voice coming across a little hoarse.

Jim's head snapped back up, and after a moment of scrutinizing McCoy's face a slow smile began to spread. "Would I be wasting my time if I did?"

McCoy attached the cuffs back to the belt and leaned forward, crowding Jim back until he could rest his hands on the counter either side of Jim's hips.

"No. I wouldn't class it as a waste."

Jim licked his lips. "You've made me forget all my pick-up lines," he said softly.

"That's good," McCoy said, his eyes not leaving Jim's lips.

"Is it too early to leave without insulting the host?" Jim whispered, licking his lips again in move that made McCoy want to sway forward. He figured that the bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

McCoy glanced at the time on the cooker and calculated the earliest leaving time based on the importance of the host as dictated by the Eleanor McCoy Rules of Polite Georgian Society. "Probably," he sighed, before reluctantly pulling back.

A finger hooked into his belt loop stopped McCoy from moving too far away. "Is midnight late enough to be polite?"

McCoy's eyes drifted back to the clock on the cooker. Three hours. He'd waited months, three hours he could do. Jim licked his bottom lip again. Maybe.

As it turned out, desperation forced them out of the party way before Eleanor McCoy would deem polite given Pike's standing, but at least the clock in the hallway had finished chiming midnight before they bolted. McCoy argued with his conscience that having the host find a cop rutting against the Phantom of the Opera in his hallway was probably less polite than making a hasty exit. The wide grin and the stinging slap Pike left on this shoulder as they left suggested he was in agreement.

*

McCoy cursed as Jim slammed him back against the closed door of his apartment. The stairs had looked like a hazard what with the way their hands were roaming all over each other. ' _My front door's closer_ ,' Jim had argued. Not that there'd been anything to argue about on that one. He cursed again though as his first attempt to kiss Jim was blocked by the Phantom's mask.

Jim removed his hands from where they were caressing McCoy's chest and unhooked the mask, tossing across the room to land on the couch. McCoy only had a moment to admire the hideous make-up that marred Jim's skin before he pressed in for the kiss he'd been denied. McCoy closed his eyes as Jim's lips battled with his own, and he lifted his hands to hold Jim's face, to get back some control, not caring if that meticulous make-up got smudged.

The kiss was hot, fast, and messy, tongues battling and teeth nipping painfully, trying to come out on top, and McCoy couldn't think of anything better. Jim slipped a thigh between his, the pressure against his cock causing him to moan, and he broke off the kiss, gasping for air and trying not to seem too wanton as he moved against the solid thigh muscle.

"God you are so fucking hot," Jim murmured as he sucked and nibbled at McCoy's neck. McCoy had a protest on the tip of his tongue when Jim suddenly pulled away, but he grabbed McCoy's wrist and tugged him down the hall. 

He let go when they entered the bedroom, Jim quickly shrugging out of the long jacket, almost tearing at the cuffs of the white shirt in his desperation to undo the cufflinks. McCoy rested his hands on Jim's, stopping his movements. "Let me."

McCoy smiled when Jim relaxed and let him ease the cufflinks out of the buttonholes, and then slipped each delicate shell button open. McCoy reached around Jim's waist, unlacing the strings that had kept the dark satin cummerbund in place, all the time keeping a soft teasing pressure of his lips to Jim's throat. When the satin fell away, the shirt following it to the floor, McCoy brought his hands to rest on Jim's hips, his thumbs rubbing softly against the bare skin as he pressed his lips back to Jim's.

Jim let him set a slow gentle pace, until McCoy pressed his thumbs along his hipbones. The kiss turned heated, and with McCoy's lack of progress with the rest of the clothing, Jim was unbuttoning his own pants before attacking those of McCoy's uniform shirt. McCoy hissed as Jim bit sharply on his bottom lip, and tried to hold back a shiver when Jim's hands slid over the exposed skin of his chest. His hands didn't stop there though, they slid slowly, achingly so in comparison to the rough heat of the kiss until they rested against his back. McCoy wouldn't have noticed anything if Jim's hand had stayed on his ass, or the base of his back, but the soft caress of Jim's wandering touch ended with his hand on the cold metal of the cuffs attached to the back of his belt.

McCoy's mind brought up the memory of Jim flirting with the cop who was giving him that parking ticket, and mentally sighed before pulling away from Jim.

"Fuck, don't stop, where are you going?" Jim's hand latched onto the tails of his shirt.

McCoy waited until Jim raised his eyes to look at him. "Jim. I need to know. Is this about the uniform?"

Jim stilled, recognizing the seriousness of McCoy's question. Only his eyes moved as they tried to read something in McCoy's expression. "No," he whispered. "It's not about the uniform. God Bones, do you know how long I've wanted this? Wanted you?"

"I didn't think you did."

The choked sound Jim made was one of disbelief. "You're kidding? I thought I was so damned obvious and you knew and didn't want this."

At the break in Jim's voice McCoy stepped forward, pushed a rough hand into Jim's hair and kissed him, hard. There was a clash of teeth and the sting of his bottom lip when it was caught, but McCoy didn't mind, giving everything over into the kiss before pulling back to catch his breath. Jim's hands were clenched tight in the uniform shirt, his red-stained lips glistening, his naked chest heaving with each pant of breath, the bright blue eyes caught in his gaze. McCoy sighed. "How could I not want this?" he whispered, before pressing a soft chaste kiss to Jim's bottom lip.

"That's good," Jim said quickly before his mouth stretched into a wide grin. The grin fell away as Jim released his grip on the shirt, and McCoy kept silent as Jim's hands tried to smooth out the wrinkled fabric. "I may have a bit of a uniform kink," Jim said quietly, so McCoy almost didn't catch the admission. "You can take it off," he said, raising his hands so he could move to push the shirt from McCoy's shoulders. "I want you, not the packaging."

McCoy caught his hands as they rested against the bare skin of his collarbone and held them there. "Next time."

Jim's eyes flicked in surprise to meet his. McCoy smiled and let go of Jim's wrists. His fingers skimmed his pocket to make sure his keys were still there, while the other hand plucked the cuffs from the belt. Jim hadn't moved his hands from McCoy's shoulders, and he fitted one of the bracelets around Jim's left wrist, letting the metal catch and click as he slowly tightened it, notch by notch. His eyes never left Jim's, and so he saw the dark pupils slowly swallow the bright blue of his irises.

"Think you can stand up to interrogation?" McCoy said, forcing the authority into his voice that he reserved for interns and idiots.

Jim swallowed hard. "God no," he murmured. He backed up until the foot of the bed stopped his movement. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try all your techniques anyway."

Jim slowly pushed his pants and boxers down, kicking them away before he shuffled backwards up the bed, raising his hands to the headboard, the loose cuff clanging against the iron. McCoy paused long enough to rake his eyes along the full length of Jim's perfect body, the pale skin a stark contrast against the deep blue of the sheets. He unbuckled the utility belt and let it drop to the floor, but he left the rest of his clothing in place as he crept up Jim's body until he was straddling Jim's hips. He let his weight sink down until he could feel Jim's hardness pressed against him.

Jim's breath stuttered as McCoy leaned forward, and he pressed a soft kiss to the inside of Jim's wrist before he threaded the cuffs through the rails of the headboard and secured the other bracelet, just as slowly as he had the first.

"Got to save some of my moves," he whispered into Jim's ear, before he nipped at the lobe. "I won't have the uniform next time to turn you on," he huffed, before licking a wet line down Jim's neck to his shoulder. He bit the pale skin there and smiled when he felt Jim twitch beneath him.

"Believe me, "Jim said hoarsely, "you won't have any issues with getting me turned on. God," Jim cursed as McCoy wrapped his lips around one of Jim's nipples. The cuffs rattling against the headboard made him smile.

"That's good to hear," McCoy muttered before paying attention to the other nipple, enjoying the way Jim's breath caught as he bit down. 

He studied Jim's face, taking in the flush to his skin, the hardness still pressing against him, before making his decision to see if he could play out Jim's kink.

"So what was it this time, Kirk?" Jim's eyebrows dipped as he frowned, confusion spreading across his face. McCoy hoped he wasn't making a mistake, and raked his fingernails down Jim's chest. "Parking ticket, speeding, maybe indecent exposure?"

Jim's breath hitched, and he twisted beneath him. McCoy shifted down to straddle Jim's tense thighs instead letting his hands skim Jim's hips, before reaching below Jim's body and grabbing a handful of ass cheek. He trailed the thumb of his free hand up the length of Jim's straining cock, his barely-there touch meant to tease. "I asked you a question, Kirk," he drawled.

"Begging," Jim whispered, as he twisted his hips to get more attention on his cock.

McCoy swallowed hard. Role-play had never really been a part of his previous relationships, but if the way his cock was straining inside the uniform pants was anything to go by, it was something he could get onboard with. "You can't have been any good at it. Not seeing as though you're here right now." 

"I was doing okay," Jim muttered. "I could show you," he offered, licking those obscenely red lips.

McCoy dipped his head to hide from the sight and whispered in Jim's ear, "What are you going to beg for, Kirk? Are you going to beg me to let you go?" McCoy ran his fingers across Jim's wrists, pressing the pads of his thumbs to Jim's skin just under the metal of the cuffs.

"Maybe you'll beg me to leave you alone, and I'll leave you here for someone else to find," he said as he slipped from the bed. He ignored Jim's moan of protest as he popped the button on his pants and undid the zipper, pushing the pants and boxers just far enough down to release his aching cock from the confines of the fabric.

He pushed Jim's legs apart and kneeled back on the bed in the space between them. "Maybe you'll beg me to get you off." Jim's moan as he pressed his tongue to Jim's cock and licked along the length almost made McCoy forget about the game, and he failed to stop the shiver that spread through him.

"Or are you going to beg me to fuck you, Kirk?" McCoy pressed his thumb gently against Jim's hole, suddenly afraid he was taking this too far, not knowing what Jim wanted or was prepared to do for their first time. But Jim didn't tense up or tell him to stop, he spread his legs wider. 

McCoy leaned forward, resting the full weight of his body against Jim's "Maybe I'd like you to beg to fuck me," he whispered against Jim's lips, before he took advantage of Jim's gasp and pressed in with his tongue. 

"What's it going to be Kirk? What are you going to beg for?" he asked, his voice roughened, his breath catching on each inhale.

"Fuck me," Jim moaned. "Please."

McCoy pulled back far enough that he could study Jim's face, to make sure he knew that what Jim was asking for was what he actually wanted. Role-play or not, McCoy was not going to push Jim into anything, and no matter what Jim begged for, it had to be right for both of them. Jim's expression cleared enough for McCoy to see that he was serious, and McCoy nodded once to confirm his understanding. He reached over to the nightstand, digging around the random pieces of tech and twisted metal, signs of the engineer that Jim was, until he found what he was looking for. Jim's gaze followed watch of his movements until he dropped the lube and condom on the pillow by Jim's head.

He leaned forward again and grabbed Jim's head, bringing his attention back to him. He leaned down and pressed another kiss to Jim's lips, forcing them open with his tongue before sweeping a singular pass around his mouth and pulling back. "You can do better than that."

"Please." The single word was one long drawn out whine. There was enough heat in that one sound for McCoy to want to ditch all his best intentions of taking this slow, but he wanted the begging pleas to be real, not something Jim might have voiced out of the situation they were playing.

After one last possessive kiss, McCoy started to slowly edge his way down Jim's body, a dual assault with his mouth and fingers, the nip of his teeth and the scratch of blunt fingernails were soothed with lips and tongue, with the soft caress of his fingertips. Each time Jim said 'please' he'd move to tease another spot.

When Jim's cock nudged underneath his chin, Jim's breath caught, and McCoy smirked as he ran his fresh-stubbled chin along Jim's length. "Please," Jim whispered.

McCoy paused, breathing hotly against Jim's cock until Jim met his eyes. When he was sure Jim was paying attention he wet his lips. Jim shifted his hips, his cock bumping against McCoy's mouth. "Please."

He gripped Jim's hips, pressing them into the mattress as he licked a slow stripe up Jim's cock. The handcuffs clattered against the iron headboard as McCoy tongued the head of Jim's cock before ever so slowly wrapping his lips around it and letting the length slip past his lips. The rhythm he set was slow, tortuous, each swallow, each swipe of his tongue and scrape of his teeth, all of it done to drive Jim crazy. It appeared to be working, if the litany of softly muttered pleas was anything to go by. But by dragging this out, McCoy was torturing himself too. When muscles of Jim's abdomen tightened and quivered, McCoy pulled away.

"Shit, you're trying to kill me," Jim panted. "Whatever the hell you need me to confess to I'll gladly hold up my hand to it." The cuffs clattered against the headboard as Jim waved a hand

McCoy grabbed the bottle of lube and the condom from the pillow and pushed his tongue into Jim's mouth, fucking his mouth with the same slow speed he'd been holding himself to. He coated his fingers with lube and reached for Jim's hole, circling the tight muscle with teasing fingers. McCoy broke the kiss off. "Did I say you could stop begging?" he growled in Jim's ear.

Jim shook his head as McCoy continued to tease his entrance, never applying enough pressure to push past the ring of muscle.

"Please, I want you to fuck me," Jim mumbled.

McCoy smiled against Jim's neck and bit down against the skin there as he slowly pressed his finger inside. Jim bucked up, and McCoy tightened his grip on Jim's hip to still his movements, as he slowly moved his finger in and out of Jim's body, while he sucked and nipped along Jim's neck. Jim jumped, a curse falling from his lips as McCoy crooked his finger.

"Please."

Jim's voice was a whisper of breath, and McCoy's cock twitched at the sound. He pushed back to sit on his heels, taking his fill of Jim's flushed body laid out in front of him. Jim's eyes flicked open, and McCoy didn't blink, didn't break the gaze, as he wrapped a hand round Jim's cock, his grip slowly tightening as he pushed two fingers slowly back into Jim's body. Jim's eyes slipped closed and he arched into the touch, pressing back onto McCoy's fingers with a long moan. McCoy let him have the movement, the push onto his fingers, the thrust into the tight grip McCoy had on his cock.

He started to slowly move his hand around Jim's cock as he pressed a third finger in, the speed of each hand as slow and even as everything else he'd done. The cuffs rattled again, and Jim pushed down hard on McCoy's fingers. "Fuck me, please," he whined. "Please."

McCoy slowly withdrew his fingers, only to happy to do what Jim was begging for. He fumbled for the condom with shaking fingers, rolling it down his cock before reaching for more lube, trying not to get sticky fingers on the borrowed uniform, but realizing it was now a lost cause. The bottle was dropped to the floor, and McCoy moved so he could push into Jim, pausing with the head of his cock pressed against Jim's clenching muscle. He waited until Jim met his eyes, before he slowly pressed forward. Jim wrapped his legs around his back and tried to force him deeper, faster, but McCoy held his ground pushing in at his own tortuous pace. The tight heat was too much, almost enough to have him break and thrust with the speed and force he wanted to. Between Jim's broken pleas and the tightening in his gut, McCoy couldn't keep the pace as slow as he'd intended. The desperation to come, to see Jim fall apart before him, rose, and he wrapped a hand around Jim's cock, the heat of it almost branding his palm. 

Jim groaned, and McCoy felt the rumble of the noise vibrate through Jim's body. "Bones, please."

The slip of his nickname let McCoy know that the plea was all Jim's, not that of his 'prisoner'; it was real. He wrapped his fingers tighter around Jim's cock, angled his hips until he could hear Jim's gasps for air, and feel the clench of his muscles around him. It was only a matter of seconds before Jim's body tensed, his back curving up from the mattress as he came, and McCoy's rhythm faltered at the sight of Jim coming apart beneath him, around him. McCoy was coming too, before Jim's body even had time to relax.

McCoy held himself up of shaking arms, letting his breathing slow and the flash of light behind his closed eyelids dissipate. He opened his eyes to look at Jim, the flush on his face, beads of sweat dotting his forehead, puffs of air coming from between those damnable glistening red lips. Jim must have known where his eyes had rested given the slow swipe of his tongue across the width of his bottom lip, the slight curl upwards at one corner. McCoy was useless to resist and he pressed soft, slow kisses, first to the corner that was curled before moving towards the other side, their pants for air mingling.

When Jim shifted slightly beneath him, McCoy slowly pulled out of Jim's body. "You okay?" he whispered as he ran his hands along Jim's thighs.

"Better than," Jim said softly, the smile on his face broadcasting the truth of his words.

McCoy pressed another soft kiss to Jim's lips before he slipped from the bed. He side-stepped Jim's clothes as he made for the bathroom, suddenly conscious that he was pretty much completely clothed still, and he grimaced at the thought of having to hand back the uniform with obvious stains. He disposed of the condom in the trashcan in the bathroom and slipped out of the uniform, digging his keys from the pocket. He wet a cloth and, leaving the uniform on the bathroom floor, headed back into the bedroom.

Jim looked over as he walked back in, the heat in those blue eyes as he slowly trailed his gaze over McCoy's now naked form had him blushing. McCoy only hesitated a second or two under the heated gaze before stepping back to the bed. He ran the damp cloth over Jim's stomach, over his now softened cock and between his legs to his ass. Jim sighed contentedly, and pressed his thigh against McCoy's. McCoy tossed the cloth in the direction of the bathroom, ignoring where it landed, and reached to undo the cuffs.

There were red lines surrounding each of Jim's wrists, and McCoy ran his thumbs gently over them before bringing each hand forward to press soft kisses to the marks. Jim sighed again and tugged his hands free before pushing and pressing McCoy until he was laid on his back, Jim tucking under his shoulder and wrapping his arms and legs over him.

"I'm glad you have to give the uniform back," Jim muttered against McCoy's neck as he snuggled closer. McCoy figured he'd have a red smear of make-up on his shoulder when he next looked in the mirror.

McCoy tightened his hold. "That's good, considering I'm a doctor not a cop, but I'm curious as to why."

"Don't think I could survive for long if you wore it all the time," Jim admitted, his hand tickling slightly as it rubbed softly along his side.

McCoy snorted and buried his nose into Jim's hair, breathing deep. "You and me both," he murmured.

*


End file.
